CrazyDisaster: Glad you like the furballs...I had to make them good guys (for the most part) because mine said I had to or they wouldn't let me back in bed...hehehe ;)

Alexamata: ...that's why I put them in the old 3rd wing, so Dean could get as loud as he wanted!

Mystery: yeah, you'll find more about the kitties this chap.

FinalSpirit: Wow! Very cool guess!

Adara-chan15: Your reviews make me laughlaughlaughlaughlaughLAUGH!

Thanks also to Moonfairyhime and GuestTypePerson, and on with the angst...er, story!

Chapter 6: Hold On, Hold On To Yourself...

Sam had rallied a bit at the threat of fire in the room, enabling Dean to quickly throw their meager belongings into their bags. He pulled Sam to his feet as gently as he could, and then, with their duffle bags on one shoulder and a very big little brother on the other, staggered out of the room and down the hall to the stairs. There they were greeted by their three midnight guardians as they half-walked, half-stumbled down the steps and into the night beyond. Dean dropped the duffles next to the Impala and opened the door, easing Sam into the seat and tucking his lanky legs into the passengers floor space. He shut the door and popped the trunk once more, heaving the bags in and shutting the trunk with a fond pat before jumping into the drivers seat and tearing down the driveway, tires spitting gravel.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, he saw flames licking at the top floor of the third and oldest wing of the Bed & Breakfast of Haven's Rest, and sighed. Then he saw three furry forms trotting out the front doors and he smiled.

oooOOOooo

Three counties later, Dean decided it was time to find somewhere to hole up. Sam had been somewhat alert for most of the drive, but his awareness was finally beginning to falter. He found a hotel/truck stop that had parking and entrances in the back and left the Impala hidden behind a couple of big rigs. After he had charmed a two bedroom on the bottom floor from the sleepy desk attendant, he ambled back to the car. When he was out of sight, he lit into a run. He opened the passenger door and caught Sam as he slumped, almost face-planting onto the pavement.

"Uuunnh...Dean...?" Sam mumbled.

"Easy, Sammy-boy, easy. I've got you," Dean soothed as he lifted his brother into a semi-standing position. Looping Sam's arm over his shoulder, he hooked his fingers into the waist of Sam's jeans and half-dragged, half-carried him to their room. Sam leaned against the doorjamb as Dean unlocked the door, and let his brother gently set him on the edge of the bed furthest from the door.

"Hang on there, little brother," Dean said, "I'll be right back."

Dean ran back to the car and retrieved their bags and first aid kit, then raced back into the hotel room. He was relieved that it was still mostly dark, just before dawn, and therefore there wouldn't be many people awake at the ass-crack of dawn to note their unorthodox arrival. Returning to the room, he saw that Sam had passed out again and was lying on his back on the bed, his long legs hanging over the edge. Dean knelt and slipped off the untied sneakers he had hurriedly put on for Sam when they had stopped a few miles out of Haven's Rest. At that time he had also put a fleece jacket on his little brother, over the towels, to keep him warm. Now he eased Sam into a sitting position and cradled his head against his chest as he worked the coat gently down Sam's arms. Sam roused a little, but finding himself encircled in Dean's arms, he relaxed into the warmth and safety of his brother's chest.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said softly, reluctant to break his contentment, "You gotta wake up now, little dude."

Sam just muttered something.

"We've got to get those wounds cleaned up, it's been way too long."

"Mmmmmm, jussaminnit...n' now..."

"Wake up, dammit," Dean said more harshly, grabbing Sam's jaw and shaking his head. It was important for Sam to wake up so they could clean and stitch the slashes. Dean didn't want him to wake up screaming and alert the whole hotel.

When Sam could sit unaided on the bed, Dean laid out the supplies he would need: old towels from countless motels that had 'happened' to find their way into the first aid kits, bandages, tape, needle and thread.

When he pulled out the Holy Water from his hunting kit, Sam gasped.

"Whazzat for?" he slurred.

"Those bites are from demons, little bro, we gotta clean them and you know it. That means Holy Water."

Dean helped Sam lay down on his stomach on the bed, tucking pillows under his head until he was comfortable, then the old towels around his sides to soak up the blood. He gently tried to pull off the blood soaked towel, but the blood had long since dried, so he had to get a bucket of hot water from the bathroom to soak it off. During the time-consuming process, the heat lulled Sam to sleep. Dean saw no reason to wake him until later. He continued to soak the wound and clean the edges with a washcloth, until he had cleansed it as well as he could. All in all, it looked pretty good; there were no angry edges or red streaks emanating from the wound that would indicate blood poisoning.

The elder Winchester shook his brother's shoulder, nudging him back into the land of wakefulness.

"Do you, um, do you want me to tie your wrists?" Dean reluctantly asked. Once, when he had been hurt pretty seriously, Sam had had to tie his arms to the bedposts while he cleaned the wounds so he didn't clobber his own brother.

"Unh, no," Sam decided, "Not yet, anyway."

Dean felt Sam grip the edges of the mattress, took a deep breath, and poured the antiseptic into the long slash on his brother's back.

Instantly Sam's body bucked, and Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulder and upper arm, finally using his entire weight to hold him down as Sam thrashed beneath him. Sam had buried his face in the pillow and clamped his mouth onto the soft material to drown the scream that flowed up his throat. Dean listened to the muffled groans with tears he refused to shed. When Sam started panting, Dean lifted himself off the bed and gently turned Sam's face to the side so he could breathe better.

"God, Sammy, Sammy, I'm so sorry," Dean whispered.

"I...I know...bro," Sam replied breathlessly as he grabbed onto Dean's hand. "Let's just...get it over with...OK?"

Dean nodded and readied the needle and thread. He hated doing this part. He tried to tell himself that it was because his stitching skills were so craptacular, but it was really about his reluctance to cause more pain, even if it needed to be done. Steadying himself, he started sewing, reaching deep inside himself to achieve a state where he just stitched, and didn't think.

Sam was also reaching deep down inside himself, but he was searching for that familiar place that would let him ignore the pain. After a few minutes, the endorphins that were flowing into his bloodstream began to numb his body to the pricks and pulls of the needle, and he felt himself drifting off into a light trance.

When he was finished stitching and bandaging the wound, Dean gently rolled Sam over and saw his eyelids flutter as pressure was placed on his back. Sam licked his lips and opened his deep brown eyes to look at his brother.

"Dean...'m thirsty," he rasped.

"OK, hang on a sec," his brother said. He got a glass of water from the bathroom and knelt beside Sam, lifting his head to help him swallow the blessedly cool liquid.

"Just a little, man. Don't want you chucking it back on me," Dean joked.

Sam gave him a dirty look and took one more small sip, savoring the way it seeped into the dry cracks of his throat as Dean pulled the glass away and laid his head back down onto the pillow.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I think you should tie me now, 'cause this is gonna hurt like hell."

"...OK."

Dean wrapped a towel around his brother's right wrist, then tied a nylon rope around it, fastening it with a complex knot. He tossed the rope under the bed, then carefully stretched Sam's left arm out to the side, ignoring his soft gasp of pain as the stitches pulled. He repeated the procedure on the left wrist, tying the rope just under the bite that one of the succubi had placed there. He glanced at Sam once and quickly looked away. It hurt to see his wounded brother lying on the bed in pain, arms stretched out to his side and tied to the bed, helpless. He looked at Sam's face, and although he saw the agony in his face, he also saw the complete trust in those chocolate brown eyes.

Sitting down on the bed, Dean wrung out another washcloth and started to clean the four demon bites. He washed them, pulling a bit at the skin to get them to open up so he could cleanse them. Finally he was able to get all of them open, and he began with the antiseptic. Pouring the peroxide onto bite after bite, he tried to disregard his brother's grunts and gasps of pain. The corded musles of Sam's biceps tightened and his hands flexed and fisted again and again. After the bubbling calmed down, Sam lay on the bed gasping for breath.

"Ain't over yet, dude," Dean said.

Sam cracked an eye open and looked at Dean, and then at the object in Dean's hand. It was a short length of quarter inch rebar, probably 4 inches long, wrapped tightly with thin rope, then leather strips. It was a well known part of the first aid kit, and the indentations in the leather also said it was well used.

He opened his mouth and let Dean insert the bit between his teeth. Looking at the ceiling, he waited for his big brother to begin.

Dean chose to start with the bite on Sam's chest, about three inches down from his collarbone. He poured a quarter of the bottle into the bite, and Sam's back arched off the bed, his head buried in the pillows, teeth clenched around the leather wrapped metal. Stubbornly ignoring Sam's agony Dean pured the Holy Water into the bite on his lower abdomen, near his right hipbone. Sam's hips bucked without his control, his back arched. He blinked his eyes rapidly against the tears that flowed, the muscles in his arms and legs spasmed convulsively. He heard himself moan, long and low behind the bit between his teeth.

Dean forced his head to the side and ruthlessly poured the water onto the third bite on his neck. By this time, Sam's entire body was burning in agony, sweat running down his skin with the blood, tears falling unchecked from his eyes. When he collapsed in exaustion, he felt cautious fingers on his throat feeling for a pulse. He tried to move, but all he could do was twitch, his eyes jumping behind heavy lids.

The last bite was cleansed, but Sam had no energy left even to whimper. The pain rode him, he felt his body shiver and convulse uncontrollably. He lay panting as Dean removed the bit from between his slack lips.

A/N:okaaaay, I guess you'll find out about the kitties in the next chapter...honestly, I never expected it to be this long, and I think there are two, maybe three more chapters, depending on how much angsty-stuff you guys want. And, oh yeah...TBC. (Kill me now and I'll never finish it!) :D